


Fill in the blanks

by nerdlordholocron



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (BECAUSE MATT DID ALL THE HURT ALREADY), 2.26 spoilers, Gen, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death, Things Are Going To Be Okay, almost entirely comfort most likely, temporary nonverbal Mollymauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlordholocron/pseuds/nerdlordholocron
Summary: Molly wakes up, and begins to piece things together. Unlike two years ago, he’s got plenty of help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Coming back from the dead is an ordeal. The target takes a −4 penalty to all attack rolls, saving throws, and ability checks. Every time the target finishes a long rest, the penalty is reduced by 1 until it disappears._
> 
> I’m going with the “they found someone who could cast fifth level spells” track here because while I suspect he might get revived by some of his backstory weirdness instead, I have no idea how to write that. ANYWAY.
> 
> This is going to update really rapidly hopefully because I want to knock it out before Talks hopefully doesn’t crush my soul and dreams tomorrow. Oh god. I’m not ready, yall.

When he wakes up, everything is too much. Weak sunlight filters through a grubby window, too bright; the sheets of the bed he's lying in scratchy, almost painful. And his entire chest hurts like hell.

His breathing goes ragged as his sole memory floats up unprompted: waking up elsewhere, moonlight barely visible though cracks in the dirt weighing him down. Empty. Empty. He doesn't want to say it, would rather say anything else, isn't really sure why. He settles for a low, panicked "nnnn."

This would still be a lot better than last time if everything didn't hurt so much.

He's hardly begun to take stock of the tiny room, rough construction and scant few signs of living, when the door creaks open. He flinches back from the noise. Just when he'd started to get used to the light, this new thing has assaulted his senses. Isn't it grand.

Green fingers curl around the door, and a huge set of ears and eyes slide tentatively into view. "Molly?" the newcomer rasps, and he realizes, oh, right, he's Molly, isn't he? But he's not sure what to say about it. In any case the yellow eyes have gone even wider and the little green person-- goblin, girl, his brain supplies on a bit of a delay, rushes into the room. He knows her, somehow. Fond exasperation. Not too clear on the details right now. "Molly, you're awake!" she shouts, loud enough to make him wince again. "...Do you still know who you are?"

He shrugs. Mostly what he knows right now is that he's Molly, but fuck knows what that means, and that this is better than last time, whatever happened then.

The goblin girl doesn't really seem to like that answer. "Well, shit," she says. "Stay here, Molly or whoever you are. I need to get the others."

A moment later, pounding footsteps-- luckily noise is starting to hurt less-- and two humans burst in, goblin behind them. One's pale and scruffy and the other is dark and wearing blue robes and it occurs to him that he's immensely happy to see them and the goblin both, and his face breaks into a wide smile. He's not sure why he's so happy about this yet, but he's just going to go with it.

"Well, he seems to... Like us, at least?" the human with the robes says, tentatively stepping forward. "Molly. Mollymauk. Obnoxious one. You in there?"

Now that's hilarious, and rings some kind of bell. He lets out a bark of laughter, shrugs, and nods, then immediately regrets those actions as pain shoots through his lungs again. The monk (hey, new word) pitches forward, a whirlwind of emotions on her face, and collides with him hard. "Ow! Fuck!" Her arms are wrapped tightly around his chest and she's shaking.

"Fucking figures that's the first thing you'd say," she snaps, voice full of-- yeah, that'd be holding back tears. "You better be in there, you asshole, you scared the shit out of us and we went through all this trouble to get you back--" Her tirade drops off as Molly puts his arms around her and holds her close. She's family, he knows that much, and so are the other two. He's very glad to see them. He lets go with one hand to beckon them closer. "Once you're back to normal we are never mentioning this again," the monk grumbles into his shoulder. He snorts.

The other human inches closer. "Mollymauk, are you able to speak right now?" he asks cautiously. Molly considers. Tries to put together more than a couple of words, frowns, shakes his head. "But you know who we are?" the man continues. "Beauregard and Caleb and Nott?"

The names fall into place and Molly nods decisively, earning a grumble from Beau, who has yet to actually let go of him. He gestures again to Caleb, scoots a little to make room for him to sit down. He'd really like to hug everyone in this room, right now, but he seems to recall that Caleb isn't usually particularly comfortable with that-- neither is Beau actually, but hey, she started it. And for that matter he's not entirely convinced of his ability to sit up right now. He settles for laying a hand on Caleb's forearm as the wizard sits down gingerly next to him. This, at least, Caleb doesn't seem to mind right now.

"I don't get it, does he remember anything or no?" Nott pipes up, clambering onto the foot of the bed to scrutinize Molly. He flails his right hand noncommittally-- a little? as Beau continues to grumble into his shoulder. He can feel a damp patch where her face is pressed into his shirt; he'll have to give her shit for crying on him later.

"Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf," Caleb tells him quietly. "That is Beau and that is Nott the Brave and I am Caleb Widogast. You know us, ja?" Molly nods. "And Jester and Fjord and Yasha, do you remember them?"

"Yasha," Molly repeats decisively, and glances around the room. Yasha should be here. Why isn't-- oh, shit. Yasha is gone sometimes and usually that's fine but this time it is really, truly not fine. Caleb puts out a hand to keep Molly from struggling to sit up.

"The three of them are not with us right now, do you remember that? They were captured and we are going, we were trying to rescue them. But Molly, you died," Caleb says simply. "You died and we were able to bring you back only about thirteen hours ago. You need a lot more rest before we can figure out what to do next."

"Caleb are you sure it's him?" Nott persists. "You're not just telling this to some stranger, or something? Or Lucien, or Nona-wossname?"

"Yes, Nott, I think--"

"I'm Molly," Molly says forcefully. This is very important and he thinks he will probably remember why later. Caleb is right, he needs a lot more rest. He elbows Beau to free up some space to get more comfortable; she kicks him in the shin. "Tired."

"Ja, I would expect so," Caleb says gently. "We will let you sleep some more, but we are very glad that you are back."

Molly smiles, pats Caleb's arm, and drifts again.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes again, everything is very warm. The light through the window has a different quality to it and he's not sure how much time has passed, though he's sure Caleb would know. Caleb is here, actually. All three of them are, which is what's making it so warm; Beau has taken his right arm hostage, and is snoring while clutching it; Caleb is on his other side, not quite so close but halfway holding onto Molly's other hand, and Nott is sprawled on her stomach between Molly and Caleb's knees. Molly will take the company, absolutely. The journey is still fuzzy but he remembers it being incredibly shitty, that's for sure, even if the raven-haired guide that kept him company for part of it wasn't too bad. No, he is fervently glad to be here, even if he is stuck in one place, still a bit achy, and starting to get pins and needles running all down his right arm.

He tries to take stock of himself as much as possible without waking the others. Arms, obviously intact. Legs are fine; tail seems to be fine too given that he can feel one of Nott’s bony knees digging into the end of it. He cranes his neck a bit, looks at what else is visible outside of the covers.

Dozens of thin old scars on his chest, which he expected, though he’s still a bit hazy on why he expected it. And one more, big, ragged, and recent, only half-obscured by the open shirt they’ve put on him. That’d definitely do it, as far as explaining how he apparently died goes.

He tries to remember how it got there. No dice. But he knows Yasha is gone, so he expects he tried to kill someone about it, and didn’t do too well. Damn.

He glances at his companions. He’s been with them for a while, he thinks. Beau is abrasive and unpleasant and can’t quite hide the fact that she has convictions; she makes him wonder what having siblings is like. Caleb is uncertain and dour, hates fire, has flashes of deep kindness and deep anger both. Nott is ever vigilant, ever suspicious, ever loyal to Caleb, sharp teeth and intellect in an alcohol-scented cloud. Caleb’s cat isn’t here. That’s a little odd. The others... well. Jester, the only other tiefling he’s ever seen, bubbly sweetness and mischief and dick jokes. Gone, Caleb said. Fjord, well-spoken, ominously powered, green... Molly recalls seawater for some reason. Yasha, of course. His best friend, his favorite paradox. Solid as a rock but blown about on the wind. Molly’s not sure how long he’s known her at the moment, but he knows it’s the longest, and he knows he won’t be able to fully rest until she’s back. And a bird child...? No, she wasn’t taken, she went earlier. To an actual family. Not a moment too soon, it seems.

So his memory is presently full of holes, but it’s not as distressing as last time, and he realizes there is a last time, with no name and nobody in sight. Whatever came before that, he doesn’t want to know, but he’s fine with the newer blanks filling themselves in. He’s with good people, practically in a pile of them in fact, and apart from Yasha and the others being captured, his recent history can’t be too bad. Gods, he’s glad they’re here.

He intertwines the fingers of his less-occupied hand through Caleb’s and lets himself doze again.

It can’t be too much later Beau props herself up on her elbows with a yawn, then rolls away from Molly’s arm with an exaggerated disgusted noise. “Hey, unpleasant one,” Molly mumbles, blinking in the sunlight again. “There any food?”

Beau startles. “Yeah, we can get some,” she says, recovering. “Not gonna give you pocket bacon for your first meal back with us. So, are you... talking again?”

Molly pauses. He’s managed five words so far, but the well still seems to be pretty dry. “A bit?” he answers tentatively.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably just saying that so I’m not ready when you go back to never shutting up again,” Beau grumbles. “You remember what happened?”

“Some. Working on it.”

“That’s good. We weren’t sure when the cleric revived you if we were gonna get, uh, you, or, yknow, the other guy,” Beau says, trying not to make eye contact. “I guess it’s probably a good thing we got you, cause you made the other guy sound like such an asshole.”

Molly laughs. Words on this subject definitely aren’t happening yet, but he appreciates Beau’s sentiment. She seems to understand as much. “All right, obnoxious one, let’s see about some breakfast. You good to walk?”

Molly glances skeptically at Caleb and Nott, still slightly anchored to his other side.

“Eh, they’re fine, wake ‘em up. You’re the one who was...” Caleb came right out with it earlier, but Beau doesn’t seem to want to say it. “Anyway, we all got our eight hours. You should try to get up.”

Molly shrugs and scoots himself sideways, sitting up with some effort as Nott and Caleb stir in his wake. The scar down his chest aches, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. His limbs are stiff and it takes him a good long while to stretch through it, accepting the lingering discomfort as an acceptable price for, well, being alive.

Caleb sits up sharply when he realizes that Molly is up. “You are awake,” he says by way of greeting. “Do you remember waking up yesterday?” Nod. “Do you remember much more than that?”

“He said he remembers some,” Beau cuts in, and while Molly would normally be loath to let her speak for him, he finds it’s probably easiest for now. “He’s not really doing the talking thing yet, I got like ten words out of him but he doesn’t seem too freaked out.” She glances at Molly for confirmation; he gives her a small grin. Beau turns back to Caleb. “We were gonna get breakfast, you coming?”

“That would be good, just give me a minute,” he agrees.

Molly, meanwhile, concentrates on the delicate art of getting up. He digs himself out from under the blankets and scoots down to the end of the bed, tries to push himself onto his feet, and immediately pitches forward as his legs fail to meet his expectations. “Gah!” Beau yells, as though she didn’t totally just move to catch him. “Okay, slow down. Can you stand on your own if you don’t go too fast?” she asks, shoving him semi-gently back upright. He wobbles back and forth, tests his stance. Nod. Beau lets go fo him and backs up, hands still ready to catch him. “Okay. Take a step forward, real slow like. And I get to hold all this being nice to you against you later.”

Molly makes a face and takes a more cautious step forward, begins to lose his balance, rights himself again. Caleb appears at his left, lends him a skinny shoulder. “I think perhaps we can get you walking on your own later,” he suggests. “After all, you have not eaten in four days, two and a half of which you were also not alive for. That is probably not helping. Nott, are you coming to breakfast with us?”

Nott’s ears twitch; she apparently has simply been taking the opportunity to unconsciously steal all the covers as everyone else gets up, which makes Molly chuckle. A second later Nott is alert and upright. “What? Breakfast? Molly! You’re actually up-up!” Molly grins and waves with his free arm before Beau comes to flank him and make sure he doesn’t knock Caleb over. “Right, let’s get more of that ham!”

She leads the way out of the room and down some rickety stairs as Caleb and Beau help maneuver Molly down them. It’s funny how the tables have turned, he thinks, recalling slinging Caleb over his own shoulder. It can’t have been too long ago.

The inn is cramped, the kind where conversations don’t get too loud because nobody really wants to deal with strangers, and that’s fine, really. “I do not think we should speak too freely about what happened while we are down here,” Caleb begins as Beau and Nott amble off in search of food, “but I expect you want to know what happened.” Molly begins to nod, then pauses, holds up a hand. The smell of food, bacon and potatoes probably, is suddenly the only thing he can pay attention to. “Very well,” says Caleb, “We can get you caught up after breakfast.”

Beauregard and Nott are bickering as they bring back the food, and it’s a more welcome sound than Molly would have expected. He digs in as soon as the first plate hits the table, hungrier than he’s been since— well, that’s something to contemplate later, or maybe never. He listens to Beau and Nott gripe at each other about stolen buttons and winter coats and all manner of things, occasionally swiping a bit of bacon from one of their plates and silently taunting them with it, and lets the warmth of the inn and the almost-normalcy of the setting sink in.


	3. Chapter 3

When he wakes for the third time he’s starting to get frustrated. He’s up in the inn’s bedroom again, Beau sitting across the room hunched over in a small chair frowning into what he identifies as Jester’s journal. The sun’s going down, by the looks of it. “When— what—“ he attempts as he sits up.

Beau glances up. “It’s the same day, probably, I dunno, mid-afternoon? It gets dark stupid early up here and anyway Caleb’s the one who always knows that shit. We came back up here after breakfast and were gonna tell you everything but you just went out like a light again. You feeling any better?”

Molly grumbles wordlessly. Physically, yes. Mentally, a few more pieces have fallen into place, and he’s finding himself less content with simply being alive and more angry that he still feels about as strong as the average kitten. “Dying is bullshit,” he offers finally.

“Yeah, no shit, dude.” Beau closes Jester’s journal surprisingly gently, then drops it back in the pink haversack— also Jester’s— before leaning forward heavily, hands on her knees. “What were you thinking giving that asshole an opening like that? Gosh, I’m so clever, I can do weird shit with my blood, guess I’ll just knock myself out so he can stab me real good? We thought we were gonna lose you forever, and how the hell are we supposed to explain that to Yasha, you dick?”

Molly holds up his hands. “I was trying to help. Never went that badly before.”

Beau sighs and scrubs the back of her hand across her eyes, coming back up with a defiant scowl as though she’s daring him to catch her crying again. “Yeah, well, how about you never fucking do that again?”

“Works for me.” Molly looks around, glances out the window. The town outside is unfamiliar, run-down; he’s not sure this is wherever they were originally headed or not. “Where’s Caleb and Nott?” he asks.

“Out stealing shit. Cleric only agreed to fix you up if we got him a new diamond to replace the one the spell used,” Beau explains. “How much do you remember now, if you can say it? Maybe write it if you can’t?” She offers Jester’s journal, but Molly shakes his head. He’d rather struggle through speaking than mess up Jester’s belongings right now.

“Zadash,” he offers, not bothering to frame it in a sentence just yet, and keeps going down the line, ticking off locations on his fingers. “Sewers, Gentleman,” he grimaces, “Cree, festival... er... swamp, Kiri, dragon girl, fish guys,” he continues, “bandits again. Hupperdook,” he says with a snort, recalling how enamored Jester was with the name, then feeling his heart sink with the memory that Jester was currently in all kinds of danger. “Prison, construct, the road... the fight.”

Beau nods. “What about Trostenwald or Alfield? The gnoll mines and the circus? You remember those?”

Molly’s brows knit together and he slowly nods. “A bit, I think.”

“Okay, we can work on that. That’s stuff you’re gonna want to remember. Do you remember our last fight? Shit, maybe... you don’t have to try on that if you don’t want to.”

Molly shrugs. “I think I got enough of it. I’m going to kill Lorenzo.”

Beau’s voice goes deadly. “Yes. Yes we are.” She sighs. “Once we’re tougher, or can get some more guys, or some shit. Maybe the Gentleman will have it out for him for some reason? Except we’re the only people working for him that aren’t a bunch of punks. Shit.”

Molly looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s not your fault,” Beau says shortly. “We were all totally outnumbered and outmatched. I guess I got mad because... we need you to stay alive, and shit. I don’t want us losing anyone else, even if you are an asshole. But we were always gonna lose that fight. We didn’t know what we were getting into.”

Molly fidgets. It dawns on him that he’s got no jewelry on, which is probably sensible for the amount of sleeping he’s been doing, but it means there’s little to distract himself with. “When are we going after them?” he asks finally.

Beau snorts. “You couldn’t even walk properly this morning, obnoxious one. We’re not—“

“—yes, thanks for the reminder—“

“—we’re not going anywhere until you’re a little sturdier,” Beau finishes. “See, I knew it, you’re cutting me off already, you must be feeling better. And anyway we need better intel on these assholes. That was a serious spell Lorenzo was using, so we gotta be able to handle that, and if we can’t take em head-on we’re going to need to figure out the best angle of approach to pick some of them off from, where their base is and shit. We can’t just charge in swords blazing. Most of us haven't even got swords to blaze.”

Molly sighs. He doesn’t want to admit it on principle, but Beau is right. “Did the cleric say how long?”

“How long you’d be down? They didn’t really know for sure. Said three to five days, but they also didn’t know if it was gonna be you in there or someone else, which complicates matters I guess? Shit’s weird,” Beau says with a shrug. “You slept most of the day after they brought you back, woke up that one time in the afternoon, and then we got you some water and you were out again until this morning. Then down again.”

“One more day, then?”

“One to three, I guess. Don’t rush it, I don’t want to have to peel you off the floor somewhere else.” She looks up at the sound of two pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs. “I bet that’s Caleb and Nott. Caleb probably has a better idea of what else you’re going to need.”

Sure enough, Caleb enters a minute later, several bundles under his arm, and Nott follows close behind, fiddling with something in a pouch on her hip.

“Good haul?” asks Beau as Caleb begins to set things down.

“I’ll pay you back for the diamond,” Molly adds quickly.

“You do not need to do that,” Caleb assures him. “Nott and I made more than enough today, thanks to how clever she has gotten with her disguises.”

“You taught me how to do that,” Nott adds proudly. “Very grumpy people out there. Wouldn’t even give a little lost gnome girl money for dinner, even though they really could have afforded it.”

Molly gives a thin smile. "If you say so." He's still going to pay them back.

"What's the other stuff?" Beau asks, looking curiously at the bundles. "You go shopping?"

"We are going to need warmer clothes up here," Caleb explains, and passes her a bundle of dark blue. He sets a larger, burgundy one at the foot of the bed. "And I am sorry, Mollymauk, but, ah, I did not think your old clothes would be salvageable. We still have your coat and boots, I thought maybe you would know how to clean the coat, but..."

"That's fine," Molly says quickly. He doesn't much like the idea of returning to the clothes that he died in, if he can help it-- the coat, sure, later, but not the rest. "Thank you."

"How long has he been up?" Caleb asks Beau. That stings.

"Maybe half an hour? I can talk again, you know," Molly interjects.

"I am sorry, and that is good," Caleb says to him this time. "How are you doing?"

"Tired of sitting here. But apparently I have to keep doing that." Molly moves to get up, and makes a great show off moving carefully as Beau gets up to intercept. "Think I'm still running on partial memories too. I've only got two years to recover, but there's still a few holes in there." He gets to his feet, sways a bit, but stays up. "That's not... great. Okay."

"You will need to build up your strength again," Caleb tells him. "It would probably not hurt to get you some dinner, now."

"That sounds incredible." Molly knows all he's done since his last meal is sleep, but he's hungry all the same. "What did you do with my jewelry, by the way? I could stand to look a little more like myself."

"We got it in safekeeping." Beau begins to fish bits of metal out of Jester's bag and hand them over. "You want all of it, or?"

"No, just the rings for now, I think," Molly replies as he slides them up onto his horns. "Don't want to ruin anything by passing out on it." He pointedly averts his gaze as Nott surreptitiously passes a few more pieces from her own pockets to Beau, who puts them in the haversack. "Right, what's this about dinner, then?" 

They get him down the stairs with only Beau assisting this time, and he honestly appreciates that she's starting to act put-upon about it again because it's better than feeling all fragile. They catch him up on a few of the gaps in his recent memory-- mention of gnoll ears in a pickle jar gets a laugh, and the details of Alfield begin to drop back in-- and he stays up a while longer after that, hovering over Caleb's spell studies and asking Nott about her recent disguises and generally making a pest of himself until he tires out again and crawls back into bed without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep meaning to work Nott in more but I'm not very good at it. Also, let's see if I can finish this thing before Talks may or may not kill my resolve! [sobbing]


	4. Chapter 4

The fourth time Molly wakes-- third day, he guesses-- he's ready to go. He still feels a bit like he's been run over by a cart, but gods damn it, he needs to move. He successfully avoids tripping over Beau, now sleeping on the floor, and only has to lean on the wall a couple times as he finds his way to the inn's washroom. Someone's cleaned up the blood already, of course, but he really needs a wash of some sort even if a real bath is out of the question. He resolves to keep track of bathhouses along the way as they travel; they won't have time to stop, of course, but he's sure that Jester and Yasha and Fjord will all need a good soak on top of everything else once they're rescued.

The clothes the others have found him fit well enough, though he notes with no surprise and some dismay that whichever of them doctored his new trousers to fit his tail did not know how to rip seams. He'll have to sort that out later; heaven knows he'll have enough downtime.

When he returns to the room, still moving slowly but at least feeling cleaner, he's immediately greeted with an intent yellow stare. Nott is sitting on the end of the bed, probably awoken when he climbed over her earlier.

"You're really the real thing in there, right? You're not just bullshitting us like you were bullshitting Cree?" she asks, without any preamble.

Molly snorts. "Good morning to you, too, then. Yes, I'm pretty godsdamned sure that I'm the genuine article. You've been worried about that the whole time, I take it?"

"Yeah. Can you really blame me?" Nott hardly looks reassured.

"Not really," Molly has to admit. He sits down in the chair opposite her and reaches into Jester's bag for his earrings-- he doesn't intend to sleep all day today if he can help it. "If it makes you feel better, I'll let Jester use--" He winces. "I'll let Caleb use one of those spells that makes you tell the truth on me. But I promise it's just me, and my shit memory, and my bad ideas."

"Okay, Really Molly with the shit memory and the bad ideas," Nott says, and relaxes a bit. "Just tell me one more thing. What would you guess the main thing I want you to remember is?"

Molly scratches his head, and glances at Caleb, wedged into the corner of the bed with a book fallen on top of his face. "I'm going to guess something to the tune of 'don't hurt my boy or I'll kill you again?' Cause you don't have to worry about that, trust me, the only ones I want to hurt are the shitheads who took our friends. And, uh, killed me."

Nott leans back, apparently satisfied. "I think you're probably the real thing. Caleb was up very late reading and I think Beau went out to punch things last night or something. Do you want to get breakfast?"

"Sounds good to me." Molly digs around in the pile of packs for his own, and checks over his gold. "Do you think we'll be leaving today, or are we stuck here still?"

Nott shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe, if you can walk? I think we've got everything useful this town has to offer, anyway."

"What is this town, anyway?" Molly gets to his feet again, this time without issue. He's made up his mind: they're leaving today, and he's going to keep himself up. They've been here far too long. "Tell you what, why don't you fill me in on the days I missed while we eat. I'm fairly sure I have the rest down pretty well now."

Nott watches him carefully descend the stairs, but doesn't intervene, and he makes it all right on his own. Over a huge pile of bacon, bites snuck around her mask, she explains the detour away from Shady Creek Run, Keg's departure, the cleric; after she describes the ritual, he realizes she's snapping her bandaged fingers in his face.

"You went all spacy for a moment there," she says. "Still there? Still Molly?"

"I-- yes," he replies, shaking his head. "I think you brought back some of what I saw while I was out, when you were telling me about the ritual. Thanks for helping out with that, by the way." He gives her a real smile, no bullshit. "I really do appreciate that."

Nott fidgets and mumbles something noncommital, then regards Molly for a moment. "What was it like?" she asks finally. "When you were, you know."

"Boring as all hell, to be frank," Molly tells her. "Everything was all dark and empty and-- shit, actually that sounds like an absolute nightmare, come to think of it. There's a guide and he seems decent and that's probably why I didn't have one big panic attack the entire time, but all he could really do was tell me stories and shit, and with you all and the others in danger I wasn't really in the mood to listen." He sighs. "Maybe I'll tell him thanks in, oh, eighty years. But I'm in no hurry to go do it now." He shakes his head again; best not dwell on it any longer. "About the... the fight itself. You were in the wagons. Did you see the others?"

"No, I didn't. They must have been in one of the other ones."

"Probably a good thing? Means they're not frozen."

"I guess." Nott looks at her hands. "I don't know how we're going to get them out, after all that. Even Caleb's magic isn't that strong yet."

"We're just gonna have to get stronger then, aren't we?" Molly says flatly. "I'm not letting them go. We may be a bunch of assholes but we're resourceful assholes and I don't give up on people." 

"You got that right." Beau drops into a chair beside him, eventually followed by Caleb with another plate of food. “Good to see you on your feet again, you jerk. You think you can ride a horse without falling over? Cause we got work to do.”

———————————

As they get back onto the road, Molly hanging onto the saddle only a little too tightly, he breathes in deep. The cold air prickles, and it’s good to feel that again, not the pain of a wound but the simple discomfort of being alive, and moving, on the way to steal his friends back. Yes, he sure as hell has got work to do, but at least he’s started now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL RIGHT DID IT IT’S DONE TM CAN KILL ME NOW I GUESS.


End file.
